The Other Man
by AnnieVH
Summary: Implied Hotch/Haley. Hotch wants some answers. SPOILERS FOR SEASON FIVE!


**Title:** The Other Man  
**Author: **AnnieVH  
**Summary:** Hotch needs some answers.  
**Rating:** T  
**Genre:** drama, angsty  
**Characters or Pairing:** Hotch/Haley  
**Spoilers:** up to episode 100  
**Disclaimer:** don't own, just borrow.  
**Note:** Big thanks to my beta Amy, who did a wonderful job. Her LJ is underspell102, in case you want to contact her. Thank you, Amy!

- - - - -

The knock on the door had been a complete surprise. Adams thought he had been careful and Hotchner wouldn't care to look for him. Still, there he was, in his dark suit and tie. His face looked so tired and wrinkled that, even though Haley had put him in his early 40s, he could have very well passed for fifty. The burning look he was giving him didn't help either.

It was a cliché and it really didn't matter, but the first question that got out of his throat was, "How did you find me?" If Hotchner didn't know the truth already, that'd give away everything, he was sure.

"You gave me your real name and I work for the FBI." Adams was pretty sure Hotchner used the same tone to talk to not very bright suspects. "I need to talk to you."

That wasn't a request to come in, but a warning that he _was_ coming in. Saying "not now" wouldn't stop him.

Instead, Adams said, "My daughter's upstairs, sleeping."

"I'm not here to fight, I'm here to talk." But he certainly had the tone of a man who could explode at any minute.

"About?" Adams pressed, softly, even though he already knew. Hotchner just stared back at him, as if telling him he'd be coming in, whether he liked it or not. Thinking they could just get it over with - or maybe it was guilt - he stepped aside.

Hotchner walked in and settled near a window, standing up and folding his arms as if to protect himself. Adams had often wondered if he resembled her husband in any way. Now he could see that, other than brown hair, they looked nothing alike. Hotchner was strong and imposing, with a face of steel and every single movement he made was intimidating. If things got physical, Adams knew he wouldn't stand a chance, even though he wasn't in a bad shape himself.

Maybe out of habit, he offered him a seat, but Hotchner just took a good look at his face and asked, "How old are you?"

"I'm sorry?"

He arched his eyebrows. _It isn't a difficult question_.

"I'm 38."

Hotchner nodded. "I knew you'd be younger." And went quiet.

Adams rubbed his face and said nothing. Then, "You want something to drink?"

Hotchner had ice in his lips when he said, "You gotta be kidding me."

Adams opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly. There really wasn't much he could say, so he decided to wait for Hotchner to make the first move.

After a moment, he got to the point, "We both know why I'm here and we both know what you did."

"Mr. Hotchner-"

"_Agent_ Hotchner." He corrected, for no particular reason other than to establish dominance. Or reaffirm it.

"Agent Hotchner," he corrected himself, "I'm sorry, I have no idea what I could possibly help you with."

"I want the truth."

Hoping he wasn't pushing too hard, Adams said, "About what?"

Without hesitation, he answered, "About you and my wife."

"Right."

"Right." Hotchner repeated, coldly.

Adams stood quiet, waiting, his mind rushing to find something right to say that wouldn't trigger that man's anger. He decided to settle for, "She was my friend."

"A friend you slept with." It wasn't a question.

There really wasn't much to say to that, so he whispered, "Once." Because it was the closest thing to honesty he could get to at that moment.

"It was more than that."

"Agent Hotchner-"

Hotchner cut the lie before it got out of his mouth. "You called her." And they let that fact hang in the air for a moment. "You called our home. I picked up the phone myself and you hung up. Then you called her cell phone. Was that a code for when I was home?"

Adams said, "I wanted to see her again because my wife had left. She said she wanted to work things out with you and that I should stop calling."

"When was it?"

"Sorry?"

"When did you have sex with my wife?"

"A month before that call; Jack was..." He felt the tension on Hotchner's neck and changed for, "Her mother had your son."

"Where was I?"

"I didn't ask."

"And after you both were separated you did it again."

_Mr. FBI indeed._ "Yes."

He asked, "Did you do it in our bed?"

"God no." The man said as if it was a blasphemy.

Somehow, that flashed a moment of relief in Hotchner's eyes, but it was gone when he asked, "What did you do?"

"Please, don't go there-"

"No, I want to know. What did you do that offered her so much comfort that she needed to do it all over again so badly?"

"It wasn't like that. We both needed someone to talk to. So we talked. It wasn't supposed to turn into sex, but..." He bit his tongue. "After you left, we met again. It always started out like a conversation. When it was over, she said she wanted nothing to do with me anymore. She still felt like she was betraying you."

He shut up and waited for Hotchner to persist on that question, but he didn't. Instead, he said, disdainfully. "Is it a habit of yours to go after married women?"

The younger man glanced at his shoes and at the ceiling and decided to go into the kitchen to get some water. He expected Hotchner to call him back and order him to look at him in the eyes, like a man. Instead, Hotchner waited for him to come back, still standing with crossed arms, expecting an answer. "Look, you don't have to tell me what I did was wrong."

"Good."

"And I won't ask for your forgiveness because I don't deserve it."

"You got that right."

"But whatever I did, I didn't do it to you. I didn't plan on sleeping with _your _wife. And I am sorry if I hurt you and your boy, even if you don't believe me or care. But I could've been any other man, Mr. Hotchner. So, please, it was a long time ago. I just want to move on with my life."

Hotchner stared at him. His face was still tense and angry and Adams didn't like to be the focus of his eyes. He wondered if Hotchner had his service gun with him.

But he just said, "I did Haley a lot of wrong. I wasn't there, I put her dreams on hold to fulfill my ambitions, and I invited the man who killed her into our lives. I deserve everything she did to me and I can understand why she did it. And I can forgive her. But what did I ever do to you?"

Adams felt a bitter taste in his mouth and blush rushing to his face. He was full of shame. He had felt it before, but this time it burned hot. He tried to push it down by explaining, "As I said, it had nothing to do with you."

Hotchner took in some breath. "You went to her funeral. You talked to me. You talked to my_ son_. As if you were any other person."

"I know I'm not-"

"No, damn right, you're not." He snapped. His voice didn't rise a bit, but the tone got so cold and firm the other man felt himself shiver. "You can't screw another man's wife and think you're doing him no wrong. You can't screw another man's wife, period. And you can't - _you just can't _- offer me and my son your condolences after what you did to us because I don't want them. If it was over and it meant nothing you should've left us alone. If you were a man, you'd swallow your own guilt and let us be. Do you understand that?"

He choked. "Yes."

"I didn't need to know you. I didn't want to know who you were."

"I know. It wasn't my intention-"

"From now on you'll stay away from me and you'll stay the hell away from my son. If I ever see you around him again, I swear I won't be this diplomatic."

Adams nodded. "I get it."

Hotchner looked like he was about to storm out, but still he was standing on his living room, gritting his teeth. "Why did you have to go?"

Adams didn't answer. Hotchner snapped again, "I didn't need to know who you were!" And passed him by with firm steps and reached for the door.

For his own surprise, Adams found himself saying, "I wanted to know that you'd be okay."

Hotchner stopped with the door open, hand on the knob. "So you went to ease your guilt."

"No, I-"

"We _won't _be okay, Mr. Adams." He shouted from the door, and Adams felt that hot feeling inside of him burn when he heard Hotchner's voice break. "We will _never_ be okay."

And slammed the door on his way out.

***Fim***


End file.
